


Caretaker

by hartworm



Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types, Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Caretaking, Confessions, M/M, Sick Fic, Uhg ok this is completely self indulgent sorry, getting sick, kinda gross but nothing too bad don’t worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 09:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20672972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hartworm/pseuds/hartworm
Summary: Bass checks on Blues while he’s sick





	Caretaker

The last time Bass had seen Blues, he hadn’t looked so good. 

Bass was aware he had always had poor health, but Blues had never elaborated on the seriousness of his condition. Blues’ life was somewhat a mystery to Bass, but he could clearly see something had been wrong with him that day. 

The two had met up at his apartment, but Blues had left abruptly, looking pale and shaking slightly. Bass watched his hasty exit and couldn’t help the worrying thoughts creeping into his mind. 

He shook his head and brushed it off. Blues would be fine, it was probably just a cold. 

Bass hadn’t heard from Blues in three days. 

He held his phone in his hand, debating whether he was worrying too much as he dialed Blues’ number. The digits were so familiar, he didn’t even have to think about it. But as he hovered over the call button, his mind raced. 

Was he worrying too much? Why would he care so much if Blues was sick? He never cared so much if anyone else got sick. Why was Blues different? Well he was different. Blues was tolerable to him. He trusted Blues. Blues was his friend. Bass let out a slow breath as he presses call. 

The phone rang for so long that when Bass finally heard something in the other end, he assumed it was Blues’ voice mail. He was greeted by a small groan. 

“Bass…?” He heard on the other end. Blues’ voice sounded weak. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s me. Listen dude, I haven’t heard from you in a while so…” he stumbled over his words. He expected a small laugh or a sarcastic whip. Instead he just heard more groans and coughs. 

“I’m fine,” Blues mumbled. He sounded anything but. 

“No offense, but you sound like death,” Bass remarked. Blues huffed on the other end, but more coughs soon sounded through the phone. 

“Really, don’t worry. Just don’t come over,” Blues croaked. 

“Well is there anyone there to help you?” Bass blurted out. He cringed to himself. He didn’t know how he could help Blues, but right now he sounded like he needed it. 

“No,” Blues mumbled after a moment. “But I’ve dealt with this before...don’t come…” Bass heard more coughing before Blues abruptly hung up the phone. Bass sighed, muttering to himself as he picked up his coat and as much cold medicine as he could find. 

Bass thought he was going crazy as he raced to Blues’ apartment. Blues asked him not to come, but he found himself rushing over to the building, clutching a bag of pills and syrups. Blues would think he was crazy. 

He walked into Blues’ building, and walked up the stairs to his apartment. 

Bass stood in front of the door to his place, hesitant to knock on the door. He huffed, shaking his head. Blues needed help whether he’d admit it or not. He knocked on the door. 

There was no answer. Bass sighed, knocking again, louder this time. He was surprised when the door swung open, showing him the inside of Blues’ small apartment. 

It was a small one bedroom, with barely enough room for Blues. Usually it was neat since Blues didn’t own much, but the scene before him was dark and messy. The blinds had been thrown closed and clothes and blankets had been thrown to the floor, almost in a hurry. It smelled of sickness, and Bass almost gagged. He pushed his unease down as he stepped inside. 

“Blues?” He called out. There was no answer, and part of Bass filled with panic at the thought of Blues trying to go out alone. What if he had left the door unlocked in a rush? His thoughts were interrupted by a faint groan coming from the bathroom. Bass dropped the bag and ran in. 

Blues was curled up on the cold white tile, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He looked flushed with fever, bangs sticking to his pale face. His clothes hung loosely from his body, and sweat clung to his bare skin. Bass couldn’t help staring for a moment. 

Blues groaned again. “I told you not to come…” he mumbled, heaving himself off the floor. Blues staggered onto shaky feet. Bass sighed. 

“You sounded horrible, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t die,” he muttered. Blues leaned heavily against the bathroom wall, suppressing a cough. He placed a hand over his chest and stumbled away from the wall. 

“I told you, I can deal with it…” he mumbled. He tried to walk past Bass, but another coughing fit wracked his body and he clutched his chest, as if he was trying to pull his shirt away from his body. Bass quickly caught him as he swayed and stumbled forward. Blues was shaking as he coughed, and Bass could feel the heat emanating from him. 

“Well you’re clearly not you idiot,” Bass said as Blues’ coughing subsided. Blues simply groaned and went limp in his arms, leaning fully against Bass for support. Bass cursed to himself. “Come on, you can’t hang out in the bathroom all day…” he helped Blues stumble to the sofa he used for a bed. 

Blues collapsed onto the couch, groaning into the thin pillow he used. Bass felt bad he didn’t have a proper bed to recover in, but sighed and carefully pulled the cover over him. Blues sighed, slightly turning his head to face him. “Thanks…” he murmured feverishly. Bass felt his forehead. Burning up. 

“You’re on fucking fire dude,” Bass said. Blues groaned, leaning into his hand. 

“Your hand’s cold…” he slurred his words slightly. Bass wondered if he was getting delirious. 

“Hold on,” he said, fumbling for the bag of medicines he’d brought. After rifling through it, he produced a thermometer. He held it to Blues’ mouth. “Open up,” he ordered. Blues shook his head, a small pout forming on his pale lips. 

“No… I know I’m sick…” he muttered. Bass rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah no shit, I need to know if it’s serious,” he said. He held the thermometer to him, and this time Blues slightly parted his lips to let him take his temperature. Bass couldn’t help fixating on his mouth for a moment, before shaking his head and inserting the thermometer. 

Blues groaned, tossing and turning in discomfort. Bass felt guilty being unable to do more, and simply waited for the thermometer to give the reading. There was a small beep from the device, and Bass snatched it from his mouth. He cursed, looking at the reading. 103. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it,” Blues groaned. He sluggishly kicked the covers off himself, looking very hot in the oversized t shirt he wore. Bass sighed. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think you should see a doctor.”

“No!” Blues sat up abruptly, looking more aware than Bass had seen him since he arrived. “No, no doctors, no hospitals,” he groaned, collapsing back onto the couch. Bass felt his stomach twist at his protest. 

“Well what do you want me to do? Fuck, this is really bad,” he said. Blues was so pale and delirious it was scaring him. Blues simply curled up tightly, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Stay..?” He mumbled. Blues’ hair stuck to his face, parting slightly to show his eyes between auburn bangs. His eyes were faded, looking glassed over. Bass felt his heart twist. He suddenly couldn’t say no to him. 

“Fuck, alright,” he muttered. Blues looked relieved, sinking into the couch cushions. Bass stood up. “Hold on, you need to cool down,” he said, walking over to the small kitchen in the apartment. 

The kitchen was a mess too, cereal boxes and plates and bowls piled up on the counter. The fridge was left slightly open, but nothing blues could eat was inside. Bass ignored it for now, grabbing a small towel and soaking it in cold water. Bass hardly got sick, but this felt like the right thing to do. 

He walked back over to Blues, who was sprawled on his back, shirt soaked with sweat. Bass knelt beside him, wiping the sweat off his face before placing the rag on his forehead. Blues hummed in relief. Bass sighed, looking at his sweaty clothes. 

“Maybe you should get changed…” Bass suddenly felt stupid at the suggestion. Blues only nodded groggily. 

“Ok,” he murmured. “This shirt’s too hot…” the gripped the fabric over his chest, a small groan escaping him. His eyes clenched closed, and he whimpered in pain. Bass put a hand on his arm. 

“Hey, what’s wrong-?” He asked, panicked. Blues shook his head. 

“Hurts…I’ll be fine...give me a second…” he moaned, breath coming out short. Bass didn’t know what to do, simply sitting there watching Blues toss and turn in discomfort. Blues let out another groan, and he murmured in a small voice, “I’m glad you came…” Bass was surprised at the admission. 

“Oh, yeah. No problem,” he stammered. He felt a small heat creeping onto his face, shaking his head. He fumbled through the bag again, pulling out a bottle of fever medicine. “You should take this, I’ll find you something else to wear after,” he quickly said. Blues stuck out his tongue. 

“It looks gross…” he mumbled. Bass almost laughed a bit if Blues wasn’t looking so pale and tired. 

“It’s just a little, you’ll feel better,” Bass said, pouring the right amount into the small cup. He held it to Blues’ lips, and Blues groaned before managing to sip the purple liquid, making a disgusted sound. Bass sighed, relieved to see him taking it. “There, That wasn’t so bad,” he mumbled. 

Bass stood up, looking around for where Blues kept his clothes. He spotted a small dresser in the corner of the room, going over and rifling through it to find Blues a new shirt. He pulled out another oversized shirt, and brought it over to Blues. 

“Come on,” he said, helping Blues sit up. Blues groaned, leaning back against the sofa, pressing a hand to his temple. 

“Hurts,” he mumbled. Bass felt bad, but shook his head. 

“Let’s just do this, then you can rest,” Bass said, helping Blues out of his shirt. Blues groaned in protest, but Bass managed to pull the shirt off him, tossing it aside. 

Bass suddenly froze, looking at Blues’ pale body. He wasn’t toned by any means, but Bass couldn’t help his eyes wandering down his chest, down to the traitorous hem of his shorts. Blues groaned again, reaching slowly for the shirt Bass gripped tightly in his hand. 

Bass shook his head. “Sorry,” he choked out, quickly putting the shirt over Blues’ head and helping him into it. Blues sighed, looking more comfortable. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, collapsing back onto the couch. Bass replaced the cold rag on his forehead, wiping more sweat from his flushed cheeks. The bright red highlighted his face. Bass cursed, looking away. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he muttered, pulling away. Blues hummed in response. Bass noticed him closing his eyes, and Blues quickly fell asleep. Bass sighed, watching the small rise and fall of his chest as he strained to get air in his lungs. Bass looked away, glancing around the apartment. He stood up, looking for something to distract himself as he started cleaning up. 

Blues woke up as the sun outside was setting over the city skyline. Bass snapped to attention as Blues sat up, going over to him. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked. Blues looked at him with more clarity this time. 

“Bass…? Did you come over to help me..?” He croaked. He still looked sick, but Bass guesser the fever medicine war to thank for his responsiveness. 

“Uh, yeah. You were pretty out of it,” he said. Blues looked around at the clean apartment, before his eyes wandered down to the new shirt he was wearing. Blues’ cheeks turned a brighter red, but he quickly shook his head. 

“Thanks,” he groaned. “But I didn’t want you to see me like this…” he mumbled, laying back down. 

“Oh, well at least you’re feeling better,” Bass said quickly. Blues nodded, curling up. “Uh, are you hungry? You should have some soup or something,” he said, quickly changing the subject. Blues raised an eyebrow. 

“Sure,” he mumbled, looking at him suspiciously. Bass sighed, standing up. 

“Alright, be right back,” he said, rushing to the kitchen. Bass shook his head, feeling stupid had he grabbed a can of soup from the shelf. He heated it up, praying Blues didn’t notice his behavior. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push his thoughts aside. 

Bass brought a bowl of soup back to Blues, who was choking down a couple pain killers Bass had brought. He looked up as Bass walked in, smiling slightly. “I didn’t know you could cook,” he remarked sarcastically. Bass rolled his eyes. 

“Here you go,” he said, shoving the bowl into his hands and sitting on the other side of the couch. Blues picked at his soup, glancing at Bass and looking down awkwardly. 

“So, did I say anything embarrassing while I was out of it…?” Blues mumbled. Bass raised an eyebrow at him. 

“No, you just complained a bunch,” Bass said. Blues sighed in relief. “Why, afraid you’d say something you’d regret?” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Yeah actually,” Blues murmured. Bass stared at him. 

“Like what-?” He blurted out. Blues looked at him like he was crazy, but quickly looked back down. 

“Why did you come here…?” Blues asked in a small voice. Bass stopped. Why did he come? He was worried about Blues. He cared about him. He cared about Blues a lot. 

“I just wanted to see you I guess…” Bass said said quietly. Blues looked up at him. 

“I’m...I’m glad you did…” he said. Bass looked back into his eyes, heart pounding. 

“Are you sure you’re not still feverish-?” Bass said quickly. Blues nodded. 

“I think so,” he blurted out. Bass found himself moving closer to Blues on the couch, their hands threatening to touch. 

“Blues,” he mumbled. 

“Bass…” Blues stared up at him. Bass couldn’t take it anymore, placing a hand on Blues’ waist, pulling him into a kiss.

Blues sat frozen for a moment, and Bass would have pulled away it Blues hadn’t hooked an arm around his neck, quickly kissing back. Blues felt hot against him, but Bass didn’t care, pulling his small frame against him. 

Blues suddenly pulled away, coughing into his hand. Once the fit subsided, he cracked a small smile. 

“You’ll get sick,” he rasped out. Bass only pulled him closer. 

“I think it’s worth the risk,” he said, holding Blues tight.

**Author's Note:**

> “Worm pls finish one of your wips”  
-me while writing this 
> 
> Also sorry for the self indulgence I’m just like that :/


End file.
